A thorn amoung the Roses
by silent dreamer 756
Summary: A collection of one shots i write in my spare time chapter 1 was updated
1. A Throrn Amoung Roses

Disclaimer : I don't own anything except the story line…this will be a collection of one shots….the ratings will change and be noted at the top. Enjoy 33

Rating : R

Romance/ Tragedy

"The Thorn Among the Roses"

Silence filled the underground lair as two people stared at a third. One with fear and determination in his eyes and the other anger and fury. The third person held many emotions in her eyes. They were all awaiting a decision that would change all their lives. Christine knew where her heart and loyalties lied. She knew what her choice was. She walked to the Phantom to tell him of her decision, but she thought 'why say something, when I can show him.' And with that she held his face and kissed him. The first kiss was chaste, but the second was more intense. He must have mistook her kiss of love and promise for a kiss of pity, and told her to untie Raoul, leave, and never return.

Christine went and untied Raoul, not wanting him to stay, and intended to remain with the Phantom. Raoul, however, grabbed her wrist as soon as he was free and dragged her towards the boat. Christine was so in shock that she didn't even utter a sound. She stared behind her at her beloved Phantom who was turned from her weeping. Raoul pushed her into the boat and started to maneuver it down the river. Christine did not look at Raoul, only her angel who seemed to get smaller and smaller and she still did not comprehend what was going on. The Phantom started wailing and as the boat turned the corner, she saw her love smash his hands into the glass mirrors that adorned his back wall and heard a wail of pain.

Erik could not believe that he was even letting them go. By all standards, that boy should be dead. But, Erik was not in anyway going to hurt Christine, even if it would be only emotional. He was not that cruel. His angel did not deserve such sorrow. She deserved much better. And the only what she would get that would be to marry Raoul, for Erik could not supply have of what she deserved. He could not bear to watch Christine leave with that flop so he turned his back and faced his mirrors. They looked so perfect, so beautiful, so the exact opposite of the object peering into them. He could not take looking into the mirror anymore, so he punched it with his fist, howling in pain as the glass cracked and shattered under the force.

He pulled his hands away and stared. They were covered in blood. The hand was now as disfigured as his face. The pain however, he welcomed. And he wanted more. He could not live without Christine in his life, so he wouldn't let himself. He didn't want to live knowing that Christine was in the arms of his enemy. So he went to the next mirror and repeated the previous act. The glass continued to shatter, yet he never made a sound. After breaking about four mirrors, the pain seemed to fade. He had shattered all the mirrors, but he was still alive and wanted more pain, and the only way to get out of live would be to die. Erik collapsed onto the floor, after not eating for days and was lacking sleep. And since there was glass on the floor, he fell right onto it. Glass into his hands and dug into his knees, but he welcomed the pain. Spying a piece of glass, quite large and sharp he started to crawl over to it, crawling right over the existing glass.

When Christine heard the cry of pain, she instantly snapped out of her trance and started to scream. "Raoul, what are you doing! Stop this boat! Turn it around! I need to go back!" she screamed at him. "Christine, why do you want to go back? The monster kidnapped you! And he almost killed me! He would have killed you too if you stayed!" he replied, slowing his rowing down a bit. "No Raoul, he would never hurt me. He would never touch me unless I allowed it. I want to go back!" she screamed again. "You don't know what you're saying. You love me and his hold on you soon will be broken." He said calmly. "No Raoul, I don't love you. I love him and if you don't stop this boat and turn it around I will jump and swim back." She said angrily. Raoul had no choice but to turn the boat around and paddle back. Christine only hoped that it wasn't too late.

It took longer than Erik thought, but he had lost some blood, but he finally reached the piece of glass. He picked it up and for a moment just stared at it. His deformed face staring back him. And he knew. He knew that this would be the last time that he ever saw his face again. Slowly he brought the blade down onto his wrists. The first cut was thin and very shallow, barely letting blood come. The second however, struck a vein. He knew it was a small vein, but a vein none the less, so he knew it wouldn't stop bleeding. He took the glass in his other hand and cut a vein there. He cut a few more veins and dropped the glass on the ground. A pool of blood had formed around his body, and Erik, having pride, wanted to die on his throne. So he dragged his body over to his throne, blood forming a trail behind him. He wobbled and tripped from the blood loss, but finally managed to make it to his throne and pick up his pistol as Christine rounded the corner.

It took much longer it seemed to row back to shore than it did rowing away. But when Raoul finally docked, Christine jumped out in search of her savoir. She looked around and all she saw was broken glass and blood. Oh god how there was so much blood. She knew this was not good. Leaving Raoul at the boat she followed the trail of blood which led to a little room. In the center of the room was the thing she was looking for. Her angel. Her angel sitting upon his throne. Her angel sitting upon his throne, his wrists bleeding holding a pistol. She cried seeing all the blood and his wrists. His wrists and hands were ravaged worse than his face. She raced forward and fell at his feet, crying.

"Angel, why! Why!" she cried fisting the hem of his cape, not caring that they too were soaked with blood. "I….thought that….you were….going…with that…pretty….boy" he gasped, taking short, rasping breaths in between words. Christine looked up at his face and rose to her knees. She picked up his hands and cried to stem the flow of the blood but it was no use, she knew he was dying and there was nothing she could do about it. "No, I love you. I don't want him. I want you, and now I can't have you." She cried while standing and cradling his head to her bosom. _"Christine….I…love……you"_ he said, singing and panting for breathe. Christine bent her head and kissed him softy on the lips. She felt a slight pressure back them she felt the body go limp. "No…no….you can't die….I need you…" Christine whispered, tears streaming down her face. She looked down and saw that Erik still held the gun. She knew that she had nothing left in this world and was going to do the only thing that would keep her and her angel together. So picked up the gun and as she placed it to her temple Raoul ran in.

"Christine, wait! Don't do it!" he screamed. "No Raoul, I have to. I lost my guardian, my angel, my love and I can't go on without him. Don't try to stop me. When the mob comes, do not lie to them. Tell them the truth. Tell them we both died for love. Please do this for me." she asked, her eyes pleading. The last thing she wanted people to know was that her angel was a murderer. Raoul nodded and Christine brought the pistol back to her temple. She kissed Erik's dead lips one last time before pulling the trigger. Her body went lip and slid down the throne to the bottom, dead. To Raoul, it looked as though Christine was worshiping a mighty king. And to her she was. To her Erik was everything, and Raoul did not want people to be mad at both her and Erik.

The mob approached the lair and saw the scene before them. Raoul told them the story and for them to not be touched until they had graves next to her fathers, prepared. They were buried in extravagant mausoleums. The epitaph on Christine's grave said: Beloved singer, friend, angel and wife. And on Erik's: Angel of music, friend and Husband. For to even Raoul, they were married in God's eyes.


	2. The Fallen Tears

A.N. this came to me at like 1:30 in the morning… it is kind of a continuation of the first story thought without Christine killing herself – but it isn't s sequel!-…I hope you enjoy it 33 (I own nothing except the plot"

"The Fallen Tears"

Rating: Pg-13

- implied attempted suicide

Breathing. That had to be the most wonderful and glorious sound in the world. It would be the first thing she'd hear upon waking and the last thing she heard before succumbing to

darkness. This breathing as the most precious thing on the earth to her. As long as she heard

that steady breathing, she would continue to breathe. It was her life support. Not so long ago

though, she thought that breathing would be silenced forever.

It was about three months ago when her life changed drastically. It was the same night of

Don Juan. The same night that she had jumped on that little boat and rowed away with Raoul,

leaving the Phantom in his misery. She had finally convinced Raoul that she didn't love him and

didn't want to marry him. He agreed to row her back to the shore so she could go to her savior.

When they reached the bank, a strong stench of blood and gun-powder filled their noses.

Christine feared for the worse, and ran towards the smell, with Raoul trailing behind. He nearly

knocked into her because of her sudden stop. They both looked on in horror at what was in front

of them. There was the Phantom, sitting on his throne. A gunshot wound was in his chest and a

still-bleeding slit wrist.

Christine rushed to him and fell to the ground at his feet. She hugged his legs, as the

once white wedding gown became poisoned with blood. But she didn't care. Raoul thought that

the sight was like a servant worshipping a god. Christine thought that he was dead until she

heard a light intake of breath. The breath was slight, but it was still there. Knowing that they

only had a few precious minutes before the mob reached them, Christine ripped off a piece of her

gown that wasn't tarnished with blood and tied it tightly around his wrist, and another piece to

stench the flow of blood in his chest.

She once again found herself pleading with Raoul to help her load him into the boat and

let her use his carriage to take the Phantom to a hospital. Raoul reluctantly agreed to it and

helped her place the Phantom into the boat. As soon as they had rowed around the corner the

mob flooded into the cave. They had made it out just in time. It seemed as though the ride to the

end of the tunnel took days, but when they finally reached the shore, Christine wasted no time in

sitting there. Raoul helped her put him into the carriage and stepped back, telling her that her

that since their engagement was no longer valid, that he would leave her there. He turned and

walked away as she told the driver to go to a hospital outside of Paris.

When they arrived The Phantom was rushed right into surgery. Christine sat outside the

room, nervously awaiting the news. An hour or two, she didn't really know, went by when the

doctor finally came out, telling her that he was going to fine. But the only bad news was that he

was in a coma and he didn't know when he would wake up. Christine sat in tears at the news.

Tears of both sadness and happiness. She rushed into the room only to collapse onto the ground.

Her once strong and steady angel was now lying helpless, not sure if he would even awaken.

She pulled the chair to the bed and sat down, laying her arms on the bed and placing her head

onto them, and cried.

This is what went on for nearly a month. Christine never ate, or did anything. The only

time she would move would be to go to the bathroom and possibly take a shower. She grew

deathly thin and the doctor knew that if she didn't eat anything, she would be in a bed next to

him being fed through a tube. Just when he was about to do that to Christine, something

amazing happened. The Phantom woke up. The doctor never saw so many tears in his life come

out of one person. Christine cried and flung herself onto her savior. He weakly placed his arms

around her and embraced her softly. She kept calling him Angel, Angel, when he told her his

name was Erik.

Erik stayed in the hospital for two weeks and was finally able to leave. Erik suggested to

Christine that they move to America where they would not be hounded by the police and

reporters in Paris. Christine happily agreed, overjoyed to start a new life with her Angel. They

bought tickets for the next boat to America and the day before it left, Erik proposed. Christine

almost fainted with joy and accepted his proposal. They arrived in America and went to seek

their fortunes by going to The Metropolitan. Christine instantly became the Prima Donna due to

her voice and Erik became the chief music writer and architect.

Christine and Erik have been in America for over a month now and they couldn't have

been any happier. Every song she sang, she sang for him. And every breath she took she took

for him as he took for her. So you see, now you can understand why breathing is the most

Important thing in the world for her.


	3. Beauty in the Breakdown

A.n I don't own The Phantom of the Opera and all that stuff and I also don't own the song lyric

"Beauty in the Breakdown"

Rating : R

Suicide

It was finally here. In five minutes she would be binding herself to a life and a person she wanted nothing to do with. A marriage to the Vicomte de Chany. A marriage that was frowned upon by most, if not all, of the upper-class society. A marriage that was thought of as improper by the groom's family, the church, and even the bride. How did she end up like this? How did her life turn to this? And she didn't even have an answer to that. She didn't even know what had gone on since that night. Everything since she left the burning Opera House was a blur. She didn't even want to remember. She didn't want to remember the lavish parties and dinners. There was nothing she wanted more right now, then to jump out the window.

That morning, in the paper, she read the last thing she needed to read on her wedding day. It said that Erik was dead. Her Erik, the Phantom. Her teacher. Her tutor. Her rock and salvation. Her savoir, was dead. And it was completely her fault. It was her fault and no one else's. It was her fault that everything that happened, happened. If she didn't tear off his mask and then go and cry to Raoul about it, she would be happy with Erik. He would be alive and happy and not dead and cold. He loved her so much. He loved her with so much passion that no one would even be able to come within a fraction of it, and he let her go. He let her go into the arms of his enemy. Into the arms of the man who had tried so hard to kill him. And now he was gone and she would never see him again.

She was quickly jolted from her thoughts by a knock at the door, signaling the wedding was starting. She sadly picked up her bouquet of yellow roses, turned toward the door, when she notices a glimmer out of the corner of her eye. She looked down and saw a tiny dagger no longer than eight or nine inches. The handle was made out of ivory and had numerous little figurines carved into it. The blade glistened at her, as if daring her to pick it up. She slowly reached for it, and gracefully picked it up. She then skillfully stashed the dagger in her bouquet, carefully hiding it from and outsiders view. She glanced once more at her image in the vanity mirror and barely recognized herself.

The imagine that stared back at her was decked in pearls and jewels. Her long, mahogany curls were swept into an odd fashion. Her eyes, that once held life but now hold only emptiness, were covered in makeup. The dress she wore was not even completely white. The dress was an off white. Raoul's family forbade her to wear white, not believing that she was a virgin, due to her class status and her relations with the Phantom. Since Christine had barely eating since that night, she grew unhealthily thin and tired and was thus too weak to argue with the family. And now she was walking down the aisle to marry a man she felt nothing for.

She walked out of the room and walked into the entrance to the church hall. Instantly the wedding march began and she slowly started walking. She glanced around at all the faces and saw blank looks. The same looks that mirrored her own. They didn't want her in the family and she didn't want to be part of it. She had a plan and only hoped she lasted for it to pull through. She finally reached the alter and Raoul peeled away the veil. He said nothing but smiled, seeming to miss the look of distance and loathing in her eyes. To her, it was his fault that she was marrying him. He never let her leave, saying everything that she thought was only the power the Phantom held over her and that it would soon be gone. But soon she wouldn't have to deal with him any longer. She would have to deal with no one. She closed off her ears as the priest began the ceremony and only prayed to god for the worst sin that she was about to commit.

She was then, once again, jolted from her thoughts as it was now her turn to say her vows. She knew now that the time had come for her to reveal everything to the family. "Raoul, now is the time that you knew the truth. The truth about everything. I love you Raoul, but not in the way a person should love their finance. No I don't. I don't believe that I ever have. No I didn't. My true feelings were repressed to the back of my mind. I was scared to admit my feelings then but not anymore. I have nothing else to live for. Nothing that you say can make me change my mind. Your family doesn't want me part of it and neither do I. I am coming my angel. My savior, my phantom." With that much said she pulled the dagger from the bouquet, tossed it aside, and plunged it into her chest, right below her left breast.

Raoul could do nothing to stop her. Her saw the vacant look in her eyes. He saw it everyday for the past few weeks and knew not how to get rid of it. But when he saw her eye lids slump and heard her mutter " my angel, I found you again." He saw in her eyes that spark that had been missing for quiet some time. She slowly fell to the floor, crimson blood soaking the dress, and Raoul saw on her face, a smile of pure bliss and Raoul could not be happier for her. She now found her peace and he knew he could ever be angry with her. He knew that she was truly a Beauty in the breakdown.


	4. Qui la nuit culmine

Que La Nuit

Rating: PG

Erick was walking down the hallway away from his music room. He was so frustrated. He was working on a new piece and somehow in the middle of it he came to a problem. He couldn't figure out how to solve the problem and it was bugging the hell out of him. Normally, he would have worked out the problem, but he had been trying to fix it for the last hour and he was getting no where. He decided that he would take a walk around the block to clear his head, so he headed toward the front door. As he was passing down the hallway, he heard a voice coming from inside one. A voice singing beautifully and quietly. He slowly opened the door and instantly tears sprang to his eyes. There sitting in the rocking chair, was he beloved wife, Christine, rocking their daughter Stashia.

"Nee dans, lombree, L'emotion te serre.

Dans le noir, se jouvent Nos varies chimeres.

Cede a la jouissance, Si belle et sana defense."

Erik instantly recognized the song as his own masterpiece "Music of the Night." He had sung it to her the first night she was in his humble abode. He occasionally would sing it to her and he was surprised to hear her singing it. She sang the song even more beautifully than he could have ever sang it. It sounded so pure coming from her. This song was very sensual, yet coming from her it sounded just as you would sing s lullaby. The words were pure and the little baby was fast asleep, curled up against her bosom. As she continued to sing, Erik decided to look even further upon the sight.

Christine sat in the rocking chair, her long, mahogany tresses laying gracefully down her back and cascading a little over her shoulder. She was wearing a white night dress with a white, silk robe over top. In her delicate arms was Erik's pride and joy, Little Stashia. Stashia certainly looked like her parents. She had Christine's blue, doe eyes and curly hair. Then she had Erik's black hair and slightly darker skin. The thing that really made Erik proud was that she had no imperfection on any part of her body. She was a perfect and healthy baby.

Deciding that his mind had calmed down and was cleared of all bad thoughts, he figured he was ready to tackle his composition. Closing the door as silently as he had opened it, Erik turned and walked down the hallway. He had wanted to go in and see his pride and joys, but he didn't want to disturbed the image so he silently wondered back to the music room.

He found that after witnessing that glorious sight, he was able to fix his problem with no effort and finished the song within a few minutes. He also finished two more songs in the next two hours. Unconsciously, since he was done working for the night, he started to play "Music of the Night" and spaced out. It wasn't until he heard a voice accompanying his song did he snap out of it.

"Dans me nuit 'ai attendu ta voix.

Desormais ne chante que pour moi."

As he finished playing the last few bars, he felt a pair of arms snake their way around his waist from behind. They gently squeezed and someone placed their head on his shoulder. "I have never heard you sing that song before. The angels wept even more tonight then they ever have before" Erik whispered, leaning back, afraid to break the tranquility in the room. "I learned it al from you, my love. Every word. Little Stashia is growing more beautiful everyday. She will have everyman going after her" she replied, releasing him only to have him, turn around and pull her onto his lap. "She is beautiful because of her mother. She will grow into the most famous of all divas. She will even surpass you I'm afraid, my love" he replied, lightly kissing her temple. "It does not matter. She will have the voice of two wonderful angels. What could be better?" she asked leaning back into his embrace.

"Come; let us get some sleep before the little one wakes up. Come my dearest" Erik said, gently lifting her up, then offering his arm to her. She smiled at him and gently placed her arms on his as he led them to their bedroom.

* * *

"Nee dans, lombree, L'emotion te serre.

Dans le noir, se jouvent Nos varies chimeres.

Cede a la jouissance, Si belle et sana defense."

Died in the shade, the emotion tightens you.

In the black, our true dreams are played.

Give up, has the pleasure, if beautiful and sanatorium defense.

"Dans me nuit 'ai attendu ta voix.

Desormais ne chante que pour moi."

In me harms I awaited your voice.

From now on sings only for you.

I know stashia is a Russian name but I love it so much. I wrote this while my parents were at Florida and I was sitting at my aunts.


	5. With a Sigh

"With a Sigh"

Tragedy

- Character Death

- I do not own Phantom of the Opera or the lyrics that are in The Lord of the Rings Return of the King Special Edition….enjoy!

* * *

I sit here in the darkened room. The dark red curtains had been drawn, keep all imposing daylight outside. No candles were lit. Even the tiniest of light would hurt his eyes. My husband. My husband lay in our bed, dying. Dying of a disease that was incurable. Consumption. A disease that slowly ate him away from the inside out. It started with his lungs and spread to his central nervous system and lastly to his bones and joints, hence why he is laying in this bed. He had this disease for a long time but neglected to tell his family. I only found out about a month ago, when everything started to go downhill.

It all began a month ago. He would cough up a little blood and sometimes contracted a fever. He also seemed to be getting thinner and paler. I didn't really thin much of it. I just assumed that maybe he cut the inside of his mouth or was coming down with a cold. To explain the thinning I told myself that when he got to into his music he would forget to eat for a few days. This was nothing new to me, so I took no notice of it. But that all changed one afternoon.

I was in the kitchen making lunch for my family while he played in the backyard with our daughter Victoria. They were playing on the swing, him pushing her, almost like he was trying to get her to heaven. Suddenly, as I looked down at the sink, turning my head from the window, something happened. I looked up to hear Victoria screaming and my dear husband lying on the ground clutching the tree. I dropped everything I was doing and ran outside, desperate to know what was wrong with him. As I got to him I noticed that there was blood covering his hand and blood dripping down from his mouth. He was clutching his chest with his other hand, and that was what lit the worry sign in my mind.

I slipped under him, desperate to lift his weight and help him walk into the house. The walk was slow but we finally reached the bedroom where I wrapped him in the blankets. I quickly closed the curtains and lit a single candle. I left the room to call for a doctor, informing all staff to stay out of the master bedroom and to keep Victoria away. I rushed back over to the bed checking his temperature, feeling that his skin became hot and clammy. I went to sit on the love seat, watching my love's chest rise and fall beneath the blankets.

About an hour later the doctor arrived. He walked in the room with a look on his face telling me that he already knew what was wrong. He walked in and said nothing as he got to work. A few minutes later he signaled for me to go outside to talk. As we walked out he closed the door and gave me a grim but sympathetic look. "I'm sorry Madame, but your husband is dying. He has been for quite a while lately. He has consumption. He came to me about a few weeks ago complaining of chest pains and coughing up blood once in a while. I spoke to him about the illness and how there is no cure. I told him to live the rest of his time to the fullest. I had no idea that he never told you." I asked him how he knew that I didn't know and he told me by the look on my face.

I thanked him as a maid showed him to the door. I quietly walked back into the bedroom, about to burst from the pain. How could he keep something like this from me? From our family? But then again, why would he want to tell us. I would only fuss over his health and make him stay and rest, when clearly he did not want to do that. He wanted to live out the rest of his life in joy. And that's what he did. So for the next month I sat by his bedside, only leaving to use the bathroom and eat and shower and to check u on Victoria. I told her daddy was sick and couldn't have other people visit him right now. She was upset but would draw pictures for him, saying that they would help him get better. A silly five year old's dream.

And this is where the story picks up. His breathing has become more shallow and labored and I know he will not last the night. So as I sit here on the love seat, I begin to sing him a song, the last song he will ever hear:

"_With a sigh,_

_You turn away._

_With a deepening heart,_

_No more words to say._

_You will find, _

_That the world has changed_

_Forever…"_

I was interrupted from my singing as the door opened. Ii turned to tell the person to leave me and my husband in peace in his last hour, hen my eyes softened. There standing in the doorway was little Victoria. Her pink night shirt on for bed, her long, black curls pinned away from her face, and her gleaming emerald eyes. "Is daddy getting better?" she asked me in an innocent voice. "no sweety, daddy is going to sleep for a long time", I told her, my voice cracking. I couldn't out right tell her that her father was dying. Her eyes filled in confusion as she looked at me but then walked over to the sofa. She clambered up next tome and curled up wither head in my lap. I stroked her hair and I finished my song:

"_And the trees are now turning_

_From green to gold._

_And the sun is now fading._

_I wish I could hold you_

_Closer…."_

When I finished I looked down in my lap to notice that my little angel has fallen asleep. Quietly I removed her and placed her on the love seat and walked toward the bed. I kneeled down next to it and picked up my loves hands in mine. They were cold and I couldn't stop the tears from falling. Suddenly a melodic voice directed my attention to his face and he spoke to me "shh…no tears…angel… I love…you….and dear…victor..ia…I go to…heaven…now to…to sing…with the angels….I will always….watch…over you…" its funny that how even with he's dying his voice could always sooth mine. "I love you too my angel" I whispered to him. I kisses his knuckles, then his forehead, and lastly his lips. "sing..for..me?" he asked his breathing becoming even more labored. "Anything for you angel." And as his eyes began to close, I sang him the last song he would ever hear and I would ever sing:

"_You alone can make my _

_Song take fight._

_It's over now,_

_The music of the Night"_


End file.
